The Alkahest
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Reaching Out
…
She got the invitation to Neville and Hannah's wedding, scheduled for mid-October, the next day. Neville, that lucky sod. He probably would have popped the question within the next year, or so, anyway.
Hermione was glad she hadn't had to deal with the invitations. From what she'd heard, Narcissa had sent most of theirs out on Draco's birthday, months prior. She'd hadn't waited long after getting the green light from Hermione to start laying down concrete plans. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized more and more that Narcissa had probably done that just to make sure Hermione wouldn't go back on her decision.
Slytherins. She'd had more than enough Slytherin nonsense in her life up until now. She couldn't believe she'd willingly signed up for another decade of this.
Despite her promise to Draco, she didn't actually send Narcissa an owl until Friday, inquiring as to the blonde woman's plans for Saturday. She hoped Narcissa did have plans, and she could go another blissful week of avoiding her. Unfortunately, the response indicated that Narcissa was definitely free, and Hermione had been penciled in at 2:00 in the afternoon.
She bit back a groan when she read it.
"I promised him," she muttered to herself. The first interaction would be the worst. She had to get it over with.
Gathering up her desk, she headed home, declining an invitation from Harry to come over for dinner. She was going to need a good, long night alone to psychologically fortify for this tea.
0o0o0o0o0o0
She spent Saturday morning cleaning her flat. It didn't particularly need it, but she did. She was going to go crazy, waiting for 2:00 to roll around. So she'd spent the morning dusting under all the furniture and the tops of the bookshelves. She'd re-arranged the books by color, and then re-arranged them back by subject and publication date. Then she re-arranged her closet by color. She almost put it back, but then stopped, deciding to keep it that way.
She considered popping by Harry and Ginny's, but realized they were out of town for a game. She considered the same for Ron or Susan, and recalled that they were touring Ireland until the following Monday.
It was just her, and her thoughts, and her burgeoning dread over the coming teatime.
At 1:45, she muttered, "Close enough," and Flooed over.
She came out in the library fireplace, and blinked, freezing on the spot at the unprecedented surroundings. She was so used to coming in through the ballroom that for a second she was afraid she'd gone straight into the wrong house. But no, she recognized those cramped, towering shelves.
Hermione sighed. For Narcissa, this was almost pathetic. This move utterly lacked in any subtlety.
If she hadn't already resolved to Draco that she'd try and work things through with the woman, making her walk through the library certainly wouldn't have done it. Hermione started for the door, muttering, "This is sad."
"Beg your pardon?"
The voice was unfamiliar, which was the only reason she jumped about fifty feet up and squealed in terror. Or so she was going to keep telling herself. Whirling around, Hermione gaped as a tall, skinny man in glasses unfolded himself from the plush leather chair in the far corner of the library. He held a book in his hands as he approached, and she realized she thought he looked familiar.
From where, though?
"Good afternoon, Granger," he said, once he got a little closer. When he saw the way she was staring at him, obviously trying to place him, his lips flickered a bit in not-quite-a-smile. "Clearly I should have put more effort into bullying you. It's only been eight years, you know."
Her eyes widened a bit. "Nott?"
"That's better," he commended, moving past her to replace what he'd been reading on the shelf. "If I'd been more like my friends, I might have been gravely offended. As it happens, being forgettable has worked out well enough, for me."
Still stunned at his sudden appearance, she pivoted on her heel to stare at him. She put her hands to her waist, squinting a bit. "Didn't I hear that you expatriated to Jamaica, or something?"
He snorted. "Close; Turkey," he said, in a dry tone, and she was about to correct him before she realized that for Theodore Nott, that seemed to count as a joke. "And I didn't expatriate. I'm studying there."
"For eight years?"
"It's advanced."
Her eyes narrowed a bit, not quite liking the faint condescension she thought she detected beneath his perpetually mild tone. "I'm sure I could understand."
"Not without a lot of explaining. Trust me."
"Yeah, right," she huffed. She'd sooner trust a basilisk in a room of mirrors. "Welcome back, I suppose. Are you just visiting Draco?"
Theo shot her a speculative glance when she used Draco's first name, but didn't comment. "Back for the wedding, actually," he corrected, returning to stand in front of her. "Thankfully, my having absconded from the country for more than five consecutive years has afforded me some time. They won't try and pair me until my schooling is complete."
"So I assume you'll be spending the next ten years collecting as many phDs as you can, then?" If he returned after the law was finished with, he'd be beholden to nothing. Lucky him.
"Right in one," he murmured, the flicker-half-smile returning.
She snorted a bit. "I hate to break this to you, but the wedding isn't for another three weeks."
"There are certain duties a man in my position must attend to, I'm afraid. I'll be conducting my studies remotely until it's all over."
"Your position?"
"I believe you Muggles term it 'best man'? We call it 'witnessing.'"
Shocked into silence, Hermione squinted incredulously at him. Theo Nott was Draco's best man? Well, she supposed he wasn't on the best of terms with Blaise, but honestly, she hadn't thought Theo and Draco were even that good of friends. "I..." She cocked her head, thinking. "I didn't know you two were that close."
His eyebrows rose just a smidgen. His expressions were so understated, he made Lucius Malfoy's face look like a circus. "I'm afraid a book hasn't been written on it, yet, so that's to be expected," he said.
She rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. "Oh, good, one of Professor Snape's old jokes," she snipped. "Glad to see they're coming back in style. Next time, though, maybe you could come up with something of your own."
This time, she could see his smile – it didn't flash at the corners for a second, but remained, widening just a little in appreciation. He inclined his head towards her, wordlessly awarding her a 'point,' and extended his arm. "I was left sentry to escort you to tea," he explained, when she stared at it. "Draco's doing a project for Mr. Malfoy, but he'll join us shortly."
"Oh." She sighed, but took his arm. "All these little rules of etiquette are really annoying."
"I will gladly hear your complaints on the matter when you've spent more than five months enduring them," he said, his tone betraying his own exhaustion with them. She wondered what kind of people he hung around with, in Turkey; if he got to act in a way that was more natural to him. "Until then, I'd advise you to use your lack of high birth as an excuse to ignore them from time to time."
They left the library as Hermione groaned at the thought. "Lucius would have a field day. I won't give him the satisfaction."
She could almost see him making a mental note of the fact that she was on a first-name basis with Draco's father, too. "He's eager to point out your faults?" he inquired, politely.
She almost just said yes and let that be that, but stopped, shrugging. "Well, I guess I can't say I don't have fun pointing out his," she admitted. "Although to be clear, that's an entirely retaliatory reaction. I don't instigate anything."
"Tell that to his waffles," Draco snorted, from behind them. He stepped into the hallway, the study door closing behind him automatically. Looking at Nott, he explained, "I finished up early."
"That was not my fault," Hermione scoffed, pulling her arm free to put it on her hip. "Did you see him eating that thing? It had powdered sugar on it. I can not be held responsible for the fact that it was hilarious." Draco crossed his arms, and she looked to Theo, plaintive. "I can't. That's not fair. Any sane person would have started laughing."
"I've never laughed at it," Draco pointed out. When Hermione let the silence ring in, pointedly, he scowled. "Ha ha ha," he muttered. "Also, that's not the first time you laughed at him. I seem to recall you nearly ruptured your spleen when he danced with you."
"Same principle. You can't see a former Death Eater skip around like a merry little bunny and not laugh," she defended, shrilly.
Draco stepped up to her and, as she tried to continue, folded his hand over her mouth. She ranted into his palm for a second as he smiled. "You're getting high-pitched, again. You're going to perforate Theo's ear drums. Also, my father's in that room, undoubtedly hearing everything."
He removed his hand in time to hear her say, "- If you want high-pitched, I can arrange that, here in a second."
Catching her hidden threat, he quickly side-stepped her before she could put her knee anywhere sensitive. "You need it intact to make babies," he reminded her.
"Not if she uses artificial insemination," Theo pointed out, earning a dirty glare from his friend.
Hermione beamed at Theo, happily surprised. "Thank you. See? I told you it wasn't unreasonable."
"Those Muggles are ruining you," Draco informed Theo, tersely. Then he turned his attention back to Hermione. "And I never want to hear that phrase ever again, for the rest of my life. I'm banning it. It is verboten." He made a slashing gesture with his hand.
She raised an eyebrow. "Good luck with that. Okay, let's go, can we? The last time I was late, your mother sent me lady's pocketwatch, and if she tries that again, I might break your nose with it."
"You wouldn't do a thing to damage this perfect face," he said, confidently, placing her hand on the crook of his arm.
"Try me."
Theo walked on the other side of her, his hands folded behind his back. After a moment, she glanced at him. "You're staying among Muggles?" she finally ventured. Draco's off-hand comment hadn't escaped her attention.
He nodded. "I'm studying molecular biology at Bilkent University."
She gasped a bit. "Really? What- I'm sorry for all the questions," she murmured. "But I have to know. What made you decide to go into that? And at a Muggle university, no less. I'm a little surprised."
"You shouldn't be. You didn't know me very well, in school," he reminded her. "I had always found scientific endeavors to be fascinating, although I was not precisely encouraged to pursue that interest during my formative years." Well, that was certainly a nice way of putting it. Mr. Nott might well have been on the cover of the Death Eater's personal Mein Kampf if Lucius Malfoy hadn't weaseled his way into that distinction, first.
And Mr. Nott had a far wider reputation for habitual cruelty.
"Well, I'm glad you're pursuing it now, then," she murmured, not sure how to say, Hey, I'm sorry your odious father died. Mostly because she was not sorry about that. Not at all.
"I am, also."
"So what kind of stuff are you studying, right now?" she asked, with a keen interest. They talked about it until they reached the patio where Narcissa had set the tea. She saw Lucius was joining them, as well, and said a polite hello to each of them. Narcissa kissed her cheeks, and Hermione returned the gesture, if a little stiffly.
It wasn't long before she was turning back to Theo again, excitedly bringing up his school. They remained engrossed in conversation for a full half-hour, or maybe even longer. She wasn't really paying attention to the time.
"Hermione," came an exasperated voice from beside her.
She turned to Draco, who was glaring at her. "What?"
"Husband," he reminded her, pointing at himself. Then he pointed at Theo. "Best man. While I agree that your attention should be disproportionate, it's being disproportionate at the wrong person."
"Oh," she scoffed, glaring at him. "Will you grow up?"
"I'm about to make you trade seats with my father," he threatened. He'd kept his voice low as he spoke, but although his parents were talking behind him, it was clear they were listening to every single word. "Or send Theo back to Turkey."
"Who will be your best man?" Theo wondered.
"I'll glue your picture to a stick and prop it up beside me," Draco grit out, his glare panning to his friend.
She rolled her eyes. "All right. Even though you command my undivided attention every weekday for an hour, I will commence staring at you in utter adoration for the remainder of the day." The sarcasm in her tone was nearly lethal, but Draco just nodded.
"Good."
She waited, and when he didn't say anything else, she snapped, "So what did you want?" Because surely he'd interrupted her conversation for a reason.
"Your undivided attention," he said, carelessly, biting into a biscuit.
She grit her teeth, and lifted her hands a bit to make a strangling motion at him, half-hiding it beneath the table so only Draco and Theo could see. "I'm going to kill you, one day."
"I'll take you with me," was his promise and retort.
0o0o0o0o0o0
After tea, Lucius ordered Draco and Theo into his study to discuss 'matters,' a vague term that didn't fool Hermione for one second. Despite knowing that it was just a ploy to leave her alone with Narcissa, though, she didn't call him out on it. As the boys filed out, she stood with her imminent mother-in-law, folding her hands behind her back a little awkwardly.
Narcissa broke the silence, first. "Would you like to take a turn around the rose garden?" Hermione nodded, as they'd both known she would, and the blonde woman turned to meander into the gardens.
Hermione fell into step beside her, silent.
They'd been walking for nearly five minutes before she finally cleared her throat a bit, determined to slog through this interaction if it killed her. She almost asked Narcissa how she'd been, but she got the sense that the woman wouldn't appreciate being reminded of her breakdown. "Draco said you were starting a fundraiser for the war," she said, slowly. "But he didn't know much about it. Is it a relief effort?"
Narcissa laughed, softly. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? Actually, it is not for the Wizarding War at all."
Hermione hesitated, not sure how to take that. "No?"
"I have a friend living in Cairo that has mentioned in her letters that there is an altercation in Sudan," Narcissa said, slowly. "I believe it was Sudan."
She nodded, dumbly. "Darfur," she murmured.
"Yes, that's it," she said, softly. "I thought it would be worthwhile to create an organization that extends assistance to civilians caught in a war-time environment." The way she said it was so delicate, Hermione had to stop and look at her. It was almost like Narcissa was desperately trying not to be offensive, but wasn't sure how to avoid doing so. "I would like to host a fundraising event to begin that organization and find collaborators."
Hermione blinked, a little stunned, and said, "And by civilians, you mean-?" The wizarding world didn't really differentiate between civilians and non-civilians; there was no formal military.
"Muggles."
She stared at the statuesque blonde, utterly robbed of speech. "Muggles," she repeated, dumbly.
Narcissa turned to start walking again, slowly. "I suppose that I have never allowed it to occur to me that there was more violence and cruelty beyond the small scope of my home." Her voice was soft, almost hard to hear, but Hermione could detect a thin thread of strain. "And I have come to the conclusion that the most prudent method of dealing with such issues is to seek them out and moderate them."
Hermione shook her head a bit. "But the Ministry doesn't allow for us to intervene on Muggle matters," she reminded her, quietly. "Otherwise there'd be quite a lot of us already doing so."
"The problem, Hermione, is that you did not have a proper Slytherin to ensure the Ministry's cooperation," Narcissa said, her voice smoothing out. "It's rather easy to ignore a pack of righteous Gryffindors – no offense meant – because while you are certainly impassioned, you are not particularly worrisome because of your constant deferment to legal morality."
She stopped again, facing her. "And you want to use your influence at the Ministry to change that," she said, almost suspiciously. There was always some ulterior motive, and now she wanted to figure out what it is. "Your husband's on board with that?"
"Of course. He is rather instrumental in regards to influencing the Ministry. It would not be a very effective effort without him."
"Why?" Hermione finally asked, bluntly.
Narcissa eyed her, sidelong. "Does the 'why' matter, Hermione?" she asked. "If good is done, does the intent behind it matter?"
"Yes."
"Why?" the woman returned.
"Because if the intent is evil, then the perpetrator can convince themselves they're doing good rather easily and end up doing something absolutely awful, like killing all Muggle-borns," Hermione reminded her, flatly. She was relieved to note that Narcissa didn't flinch, this time; in fact, the woman met her gaze rather squarely. "So, why?"
The woman smiled, a bit bitterly. "You make rather pointed observations when you are upset," she murmured. "Lucius has come to respect you for such qualities. It is rather disorienting for him, to find himself liking you."
Hermione laughed automatically, because the thought of Lucius liking her was patently absurd.
"I am not joking, or lying," Narcissa said, patiently, and watched with gratification as the amusement faded from Hermione's expression. "He likes to pretend that he is only allowing this union because I wanted it so dearly, but he has come to enjoy your presence within our lives as much as I do." Her voice was quiet, and serious. Hermione didn't know how to really take it. "I think there was always a small part of him that desired a daughter. As that desire was never fulfilled, Draco's wife would be a fitting stand-in, don't you think?"
"Why are you telling me this?" the curly-haired witch muttered.
"So you can understand why I felt it justified to tamper with your Matchmakers results," she said, a sense of urgency swelling in her tone. "You are good for us. And we are good for you."
Hermione snorted.
"We are. With us, you can actually achieve the change you desire to see," Narcissa pointed out. "We know how to operate within the Ministry to achieve our aims, and furthermore we know how to do so without making our intentions obvious to all. That is a skill set you dearly require." Hermione had sobered, watching her, and Narcissa continued: "And to answer your question, Hermione, I am seeking to atone."
She went a little still. "Atone for the war?" she asked, softly.
Narcissa inclined her head a bit. "Yes. I admit the impulse is rather selfish; I am not very accustomed to feeling uncertain about my past actions, especially in regards to whether or not they were right. My hope is that I can counterbalance any wrong I have done by doing right in the future."
Hermione stared at her for a long moment, assessing her expression and her body language. If Narcissa was lying, then she was damnably good at it. But, for some reason, Hermione got the impression of sincerity. "If what you're saying is true," she said, slowly, because she wasn't quite willing to blindly believe the woman just yet. "Then I know several people, myself included, who would be interested in collaborating with your efforts. They're all passionate, lawful Gryffindors, mind you," she said, in a dry tone. "But I think you'll find that you Slytherins could use a little passion. When things go impossible, we're the last ones to give up, you know."
Narcissa chuckled. "I do know," she admitted. "And I would appreciate the opportunity to collaborate with them. And with you."
"I'll tell Harry to get in touch," she said. "We'll set something up."
She inclined her head. "Draco mentioned that you would like to have the ceremony at Hogwarts," she said, changing topics so swiftly that it left Hermione's head spinning, a bit. "I think that is an excellent idea. Who will be your chief witness to the bonding?"
"Harry."
Narcissa stopped short, blinking. "But he is a man."
"And my best friend," Hermione said. "Ginny will be my maid of honor. There's nothing in the books that says they have to be the same person. And I'll have two more bridesmaids, Susan and Luna."
"That will leave the wedding uneven," Narcissa murmured. "Draco has Mr. Nott as his best man and witness, and only Blaise besides."
"Is that a problem?"
"Uneven weddings are bad luck," she said, and then she added, "Please endeavor not to roll your eyes. Draco will have to find a third and fourth groomsman."
"Doesn't he have two more friends?" Hermione huffed. "What about Pansy?"
"Pansy is not a groomsman."
Hermione leveled a narrow look at the woman, drawing herself up a bit. Narcissa was taller than her, but Hermione knew she could look rather impressive when she needed to. "I don't know if you think you can convince me to drop Harry from my party, but I won't. Harry is my witness and I want Ginny, Susan, and Luna as my bridesmaids. I'm not keen on dropping anyone. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be leaving Ron out of things, either," Hermione mentioned, rather enjoying the way Narcissa's face blanched.
"It's unseemly for a woman to have men in her wedding party," she said, stiffly.
"Harry is the only non-negotiable presence in my party," Hermione said, tersely. "You know what? Drop Ginny, Susan, and Luna, if you want. They won't mind. But Harry stays, even if I have to put him in a dress to keep him there."
Narcissa inhaled, carefully, clearly trying to fortify her inner reserves of calm. "I will have to discuss the matter with Draco."
"Alright," she agreed, flatly. She could see the woman's mind working, though, trying to figure out a way to get Harry evicted from her wedding party. She didn't care what clever thing the woman came up with. She wasn't getting married without Harry up there with her.
"Your attachment to him is rather strong," Narcissa noted. "I don't suppose what I read in the Prophet about you two is correct?"
Hermione bristled fantastically. "Rita Skeeter is a loathsome little liar. If you're willing to pick up your information from a person like her, you're obviously not as cunning as you like to think you are," she snapped. "Harry is my best friend, and he's like a brother to me."
She raised a hand, palm towards Hermione. "Please calm down," Narcissa said, softly. "I was simply asking. I was not trying to accuse you, or him, of anything."
She blinked, taking a quick, shuddering breath. She balled her hands into tight fists and then released them with a sigh. "Sorry, I just- I just really hate that question."
"I can see that."
"It's just annoying, you know? The idea that I can't be friends with a perfectly wonderful person if he happens to have opposing genitalia," she muttered, crossing her arms defensively. "Why does everyone assume that a man and a women can't ever have a true, platonic friendship?"
Narcissa tilted her head a bit, thinking. "I don't think that," she said. "For the record. I have had a deep friendship with a man."
"And did Lucius lose his mind over it?" Hermione wondered, in a wry tone.
"No. It was well known to him that the man's affections lay very firmly elsewhere," Narcissa disagreed. "Others assumed, of course. Mostly they assumed that he was in unrequited love with me, because I was very beautiful and he was not. It was assumed I loved Lucius, because he was also beautiful. When you are attractive, people take a rather shallow view of you, I've found."
Hermione fell silent as she watched Narcissa, speculative, sobering up a bit. "Why do you love him? Lucius."
She smiled, and the smile was small, and private, and so sincere that it looked obscene on her usually collected face. Hermione felt her arms fall away from their crossed position over her chest as she watched the woman. "So many reasons. It's hard to pinpoint any one," she admitted, quietly. "I admired his passion, and his intelligence. He was talented. He was funny, and playful when the mood struck him right. I laughed more, when I was with him. He was caring, and sensitive, and – believe it or not – he was always very kind and devoted to me."
No, Hermione believed that. It was getting him to be kind to everyone else that was the issue, there. Lucius didn't seem to have any problems taking on the world and all of reality in order to keep Narcissa happy.
"And that other man? Why not him?"
Narcissa shrugged. "We just didn't," she said, plainly, and Hermione smiled a bit. Because it really was that easy, wasn't it?
Because they just didn't.
She let her smile fade, and then she asked, softly, "Do you miss him?"
The woman swallowed, hard, and managed to summon a shaky smile. "Every day."
"You know," Hermione said, a little abruptly. She hesitated, but barreled on. "You know, one of Harry's kids is named after him. The youngest." Or maybe Narcissa did know. "Albus Severus."
Judging by the look on Narcissa's face, she hadn't. If the boy was ever mentioned in the papers, it was usually just as 'Harry Potter's son, Albus.' For a moment, the woman looked like she didn't know what to say, and just stared at Hermione, her mouth parted. "That's... I'm glad," she whispered. Hermione realized that it wasn't because of Albus' name that Narcissa looked so thunderstruck – it was because Hermione had guessed who Narcissa had been referring to. Maybe it hadn't been as obvious as she'd assumed. Or maybe she'd just had a head start, already knowing that Narcissa had managed to get Severus to take an Unbreakable Vow to protect his godson. "Remembering him on my own has been very lonely."
"You should come by Grimmauld Place," she suggested. Realizing Narcissa had grown up there, she said, "It's, ah, been rather renovated, so hopefully seeing it isn't too shocking. But I bet Harry would be glad to introduce you."
She nodded a bit, a small smile touching her lips. "Thank you. I would like that."